Hepacor
by JMK758
Summary: In Season Two Abby and Tim are very good friends with a long and frequently steamy history that eventually cooled. But one night, in the Forensics lab, things get dicey.


In Season Two Abby and Tim are very good friends with a long and frequently steamy history that eventually cooled. But one night, in the Forensics lab, things get dicey.  
The usual legal disclaimers and a caveat: Rated T or NCis-17. Adult theme with con_sensual_ sex.

Hepacor  
by JMK758

Tim McGee walks into the Forensics Lab on Friday at 2240, carrying a plastic tub of evidence but looking forward to finally finishing this day and going home. Gibbs is gone, the Alpha Shift Agents long gone and even Beta Shift is looking forward to winding down. The weekend crew commencing with Gamma Shift at 0000 is little more than bare minimum to keep the Agency coasting on impulse. He had called to confirm Abby was in - she never seems to tire - but after a near double shift all he wants to do is drop off evidence for eventual examination and leave. Abby doesn't do weekends, not unless Gibbs asks and Gibbs is probably hard at work on his boat.

The blast of rock music that assaults his ears the instant he steps through the door almost wakes him far too well.

"Abby?" he calls to the woman across the room, but he doubts his voice carries more that a few inches before being beaten down by the cacophony. However, the sight of her makes him reconsider his wanting the volume lowered.

She's wearing her usual black, including an atypical choice of black high heel shoes rather than her boots. He's never seen her in high heeled shoes, had missed the time in Court and indulges in a moment; several moments in fact. The high heels do make her very sexy legs look even longer before they peek under her skirt.

And it's a very delightfullyshort skirt, and her t-shirt fits her so snugly that he can see the smoothness of her back is unmarred by bra straps. Her hips sway sensuously to a slow rhythm that has nothing to do with the sonic barrage. Watching her move, there's a long expanse of sexy legs between hem and high heels and he wishes he could caress every millimeter. As he watches her micro-skirt wag, he hopes for at least a tantalizing glimpse and decides he's not as tired as he'd thought he was.

x

But after a time, delightful as the bare legged show is, he has to get out of here and get home. He certainly can't stay the night with the lovely Goth woman, but for the moment her bare legs and scarf-like micro skirt have sparked some very intense memories.

"Abby." This is ridiculous; he can't even hear himself. "_ABBY_." Crossing the room, he puts his hand on her shoulder.

Her shriek can almost be heard. He sees too late she was holding a large glass beaker. She snatches for it, it slips past her fingers and shatters on the table top. She hops back, avoiding the spray of glass.

She snatches the white remote control on the table top, kills the radio and in the sudden quiet her horrified whisper seems like a yell.

"Oh my God!" she breathes, staring at the spill.

"I'm sorry, Abby, I–"

"Get _out_."

"I'm sorry, I'll help you clean–"

She whirls on him, frightened rather than angry and his heart leaps into his throat as she yells "GET OUT OF HERE! _RUN_!" is a scream.

x

He doesn't know or care what the danger is. He grabs her arm, yanks her toward the main door as klaxons sound throughout the lab. Every door slams shut as they skid to a halt, she falling off her heels into his clutch. Neither needs to reach or test them to know they're locked. "Too late," she exclaims on the verge of panic as she steadies herself.

"What's going _on_?"

"Contamination protocol, the Hepacor's airborne and we're sealed in!" She turns back to the shattered glass beaker on the dry table top.

"What Hepacor?" Tim asks, wondering at her distress. Wasn't that beaker half full? "And where is it?"

"Exposed to air, it evaporates at 41 degrees."

Truly frightened, Tim can think of only one question: "Can it kill us?"

"It won't hurt you one bit."

He tries to pull back from the fear. "Then why the panic?"

"It can make you long for death," Abby assures him breathlessly. "Beg for death before it's done."

He clutches her arms to rein in the rapid fire pronouncements that make him feel more scared. "Abby, _talk _to me. What is it?

"Hepacoramalinapolyplyertritolayhermate. I was testing it for a case Kevin Lamb and his team are working on."

"Hepacoromanil..." he abandons the struggle.

"Just say Hepacor. By the time you get the whole thing right it'll have taken full effect."

"What is it? And can we get someone in to-?"

"No. No _way_! I can't break Quarantine. We're exposed! It'll wear off in about six hours but there's no _way _I'm going to expose the entire building to it. We're safe - relatively - but if it gets out that would be so incredibly bad."

"But it won't hurt _us_?"

"No, not a bit."

x

Tim steps back, raises his hands imploringly. "Abby, stop. For just one minute pretend I don't have a degree in Forensic Chemistry and tell me in English what's going on."

Abby winds down several points. "Hepacor is an experimental drug that Lamb, Levy and DuBois confiscated when they raided a drug lab. It's so illegal it's Tip Top Secret and the ones making it will get a hundred years each. It affects the brain, stimulates the hypothalamus, but it's like passing a high voltage sex charge through it."

Sex charge? She can't mean... "Wait a minute, are you trying to say it's an aphrodisiac?"

"No, I'm not trying to say it, I _am _saying it."

"There's no such thing as an aphrodisiac."

Abby puts her hands on her shapely hips and glares at him. "Who's the Scientist here, you or me?"

"You are, of course; but an aphrodisiac - it's a wives' tale. Rhino's horns, oysters, powdered goat's eggs; men have been searching for it for centuries."

"Yeah, well they found it, synthesized it and put it on steroids."

x

"And it can't be controlled?"

"That's why the government restricted it. It's so Top Secret only a handful of people even know it exists. If it hadn't been stolen from a research lab I'd never even have had it and _you _wouldn't have made me spill it."

"It's really that powerful?"

"Tim, if I open that door, nine months from now NCIS Beta Shift will have a baby boom the likes of which Masters and Johnson never conceived."

Tim can't quite bring himself to smile. "What do we do?"

"We wait it out. Evaporated Hepacor has a half-life of two hours. Within six it'll have degraded enough that it'll be safe to leave. I'm just not sure what condition _we'll_ be in."

"What do you mean? And why is it so _hot_?"

Abby glances at the digital readout on her wall thermometer. "First symptom - and it's 66 degrees in here."

"No it isn't," Tim insists, wiping perspiration from his forehead, "it's got to be over 80. Your thermometer's broken."

"I told you, that's the first symptom. You're going to be getting a lot hotter." She breathes deeply, runs her hands down the front of her black t-shirt, along her breasts and further. "I know I already am."

x

He sees her erect nipples poking through the clinging fabric and, following the direction of her hands, her long legs are starting to look exceptionally good.

"What do you mean?"

Abby's exasperation is volcanic. "Aphrodisiac. Man. _Woman_. Do I have to draw you some smutty pictures?"

"What do you– _Oh_! Oh, no. No no no no no. Forget it!"

"Matter of time, and I won't be _able _to forget it. Neither will you." She gasps, her hips pulling back as her muscles tense and her hand covers her crotch as though to protect it. "_Oh_! I can already feel it working."

"Wait! You mean we're…?"

"Uh huh."

"And we're…?"

Her hand presses more firmly to her vulva, her other to her breasts as she gasps in mounting passion. "Oh, this isn't..." Her hips move in response to what she can't keep her hand from doing. "_Yeah_."

"No. No way. I mean you're great and all, but no way. I refuse to believe-"

"Believe what you _like_, Tim," she says, breathing deeply, a sheen of perspiration covering her forehead. She moans, her hands move more firmly upon her body, her hips almost reaching for her hand.

"Will you stop that?"

"I _can't _stop it!" She rubs herself under her skirt, moans in embarrassment and flaring sensation and he knows the forces that press her are out of her control, each of her groans louder than the last.

She'd never behave like this. He's embarrassed for her but, looking at the way she's affected he feels the arousal in himself as well.

She's breathing so heavily, her chest heaving and he can see - can't take his eyes off - her heaving breasts under the tight shirt, her hard nipples poking the material out. She looks like she has two tiny cannons under that shirt. "Oh, gosh, I can't help... help-. Oh gosh, I'm getting so–!"

She leans back against the table and he can see she's trying to keep her hand, pressed against her crotch, from moving, but she strokes her heaving breasts and her hot gasps increase in intensity.

x

Tim can't deny the drug - and Abby - are having a powerful effect on him. He wants her, _needs _this gasping, vastly aroused woman before him. She's panting, can't stop touching herself, her face reddening with more than shame. Her every sensuous move tears at him.

He wants to touch himself too. He clenches his fists, fights with pain of nails driven into palms. But watching her hardens him despite his efforts. He's getting too big for his pants and he's not even touching, not even being touched.

Her gasps, moans, her hot movements, the way her hips move as though she's trying to get him inside her! It takes everything he has to keep his hand from going to free himself and-

She reaches for him, her hand coming from her crotch to his and the touch is explosive. She squeezes him, her hand strokes firmly, squeezes rhythmically and he can't fight anymore.

x

He pulls her body against his, her flesh through the tee shirt and micro-mini hot and getting hotter. Their mouths meet, their fiery kiss almost too hot to bear. His hands cup her ass, press her vulva to him. She reaches down, drags her skirt out of the way, rubs herself against him through her panties, gasping and groaning with every hot stroke.

Her scorching tongue licks deep as their kiss increases in passion, she moaning into his mouth as their tongues lick and duel and she clutches his ass too, holds tight so she can rub more firmly against him. Her full, firm breasts press to his chest and he wants to-

He pushes her back, grabs the collar of her tee shirt in his fists and pulls. The thin material holds for only a second, then threads break and her shirt rips, her breasts revealed and he pulls harder, rips all the way, her shirt splits in half. He yanks the material off her creamy shoulders and down her arms, throws the destroyed black garment behind her.

Her breasts are gorgeous, full and firm with her need, her hard nipples look so delicious and he strokes her, rips gasping groans from her. He grabs her arms, yanks her to him, her delightful chest pressed to his. She clings to him and he captures her hot breasts in his hands, molding them, unable to think of restraint. He squeezes her breasts as gently as roaring lust will allow him and she nearly sobs.

She reaches down for him through his pants, clutches him with one hand, her other clamps over her mouth barely in time to contain a scream as he sucks and licks her left nipple. His right hand goes to her crotch and she spreads her legs in desperate welcome, his fingers pet her past her wet panties, push her soaked crotch aside. His left hand squeezes her right breast gently as he feels her hot cream flood over his fingers.

She squeezes his hard shaft more firmly, strokes up and down and he sucks harder, She clamps her hand over her mouth again as he rips another scream from her. Her legs tighten about his hand and hotter cream flows over his hand to drip to the floor between her feet.

x

She straightens off the table and her hands attack his belt, almost yank him off his feet as she pulls the belt loose, grabs the material rather than his zipper, rips everything apart and shoves his pants off his hips.

She lets the destroyed trousers drop and reaches under her skirt past his invading hand, coats her fingers with her boiling juices, pulls his shorts forward and dives in to take him. She closes her wet fingers about him, continues to stroke wet flesh to wet flesh.

He doesn't bother with her skirt; his hands can't work the seals be they buttons or whatever. He grabs the waistband of her panties with both fists, pulls as hard as he can and the material snaps. As crazed, she grabs his shirt with both hands and rips. Buttons fly everywhere and she grabs his tee shirt, digs her nails through the material and rips it apart as he pushes what's left of her panties down her other leg.

x

Their lips meet, lock in fiery contest and he pulls her from the table and presses her toward the floor. He lays her down, only her micro-skirt in the way and he throws it upward as she arches her hips to him, gasps with every move. He raises her knees and spreads her as she reaches for him, uses the fragments of his shirt to pull him on top of her.

ooooo

When they can't move, completely exhausted, Abby can barely force her eyes toward the clock on the wall. 00:20 - nearly _three hours _and she's not sure she'll ever move again. Tim has fallen off her body to crash beside her, only his panting - and hers - proving any part of their bodies can work.

She's had it every way; on her back, standing up, riding him forward, face down on the floor with him laying atop her driving her hips into the floor while giving her vagina a short rest, in her chair with her ankles at his ears, on their sides with him behind her holding one of her legs up, riding atop him backward, forward again so he could reach her breasts, sixty-nine he on top, bent over the table with clamped hands smothering screams as he gave her vagina another rest, another sixty-nine this time her on top, standing bent forward over her table, bent back over it, laying on it, standing bent clutching her widely spread ankles, bent clinging to the table edge one foot on the floor and her other leg on his shoulder, kneeling straddling his mouth and nearly drowning him, several positions that should have been impossible, screaming as he filled her until she couldn't tell if it hurt or not.

She feels utterly raw, worn and limp, so much so that even thinking of closing her legs is too much of a chore.

x

"Is it over?" he sighs. He doesn't sound like he'll be able to whisper another word.

"Is what over?" Her voice is raw from screaming.

"The Hepacor."

In some universe that word means something, but not in this one. "The what?"

He turns his head slowly to her. "The Hepacor."

Oh, yeah. "Oh. That." She forces a slow smile, the best she can manage. She focuses her eyes, looks into his with vast wonder. "You actually _believed_ that. Wowwww."

It takes effort but he manages to lift his head an inch. "_What_?"

"Hepacor - ply her - try to lay her, mate?" She smiles broadly but tiredly. "You actually bought that."

He struggles to turn his body toward her. It takes a long time, but "You mean all that was a–?"

"I rigged the alarm, the lockdown, the thermometer and the thermostat with a program that started when I raised my voice."

"But why?"

"Tim, I really hate stupid questions."

She pushes at his body, presses him onto his back, rolls over and forces herself to climb his hips.

The hunger for more, the need to make the past three hours merely foreplay, makes her labia twitch as she opens her mouth.

The Lab's still on lockdown, everyone knows she doesn't work weekends - and Monday is so many hours away.

.

Fin (for us)


End file.
